I just realized that my t-shirt is backwards. Not that I’m wearing it backwards, but that they screen-printed the cat face on what should have been the back and put the tag on what should have been the front. It took me a few wearings to notice it, but then I realized that I kept tugging on the neck because it felt too tight. I would pull the neck forward, but it always seemed to creep back up. I tugged the shoulder seams forward and they too seemed always to slide down my back. Today was the day that it finally dawned on me: The shirt is backwards.

On the morning of my third day in Liverpool I found that I was welcome back to my big room at the Beatles hotel. Before heading out there, I had a huge English breakfast at a coffee shop near the bombed-down church. Then I went shopping at Boots...

I woke up the next morning with that sweet sensation you get whenever you wake up in a luxury hotel. But this heavenly feeling was quickly interrupted by some disturbing news. I got a call from reception saying that my room in the Beatles hotel had been double-booked, and I had ten minutes to get out. So much for the English breakfast!

VICE UK's Bruno Bayley is stridently heterosexual. Rolling around in the grass, half naked on a hot summer's day with his best buddy Caius doesn't phase him. He's totally fine with it. It's not gay. It's two guys together, having fun, nuzzling each other, out in the open. Look at his angelic face. It's just beautiful.

So the council have started putting up posters congratulating themselves for clearing up the puke and dog shit on our streets. Their PR guys have deliberately (let's hope) confused the term Charm Offensive. Unfortunately, they forgot that you're not supposed to boast about stuff you suck at. The reality on the streets is that puke is everywhere, it's worse than ever, and no one ever cleans it up. Our pavements are
pockmarked with puddles of vomit at various stages of decomposition,
from the fresh-from-last-night puke to the tell-tale splash stains left
by older puke corroding the sidewalk.

T-shirts with "jokes" on them are rarely funny. In wearing one you’re essentially telling the world you’ve found a joke so funny that you want to tell it to every single person you walk past. This joker thought it would be hilarious to announce to the world: "WANTED: NICE WARM HOME FOR MY COCK." No one who walked past him burst into hysterics, slapped their thigh and winked at him. He is basically reliving the crushing despair of telling a piss-poor joke only to receive an awkward silent response with every person who passes him in the street. That is literally thousands of time a day; more than enough to depress anyone. No wonder he looks so glum.CHRIS O'NEILL

How about this? How about we get some great bands and get them to play at the pub? How about we make it free to get in? How about we give everyone free cocktails? Sound good? Into it? Yeah? See you tonight!